


This Is A Beginning (This Is An Ending)

by fictionalfaerie



Category: Hannibal (2001), Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2013-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-18 02:26:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/874607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalfaerie/pseuds/fictionalfaerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a prompt in the Book/Movie post on the Hannibal Kink Meme. </p>
<p>In which the events of Hannibal go a bit differently as Mason picks up an interest in Will Graham, rather than Clarice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Is A Beginning (This Is An Ending)

**Author's Note:**

> [The prompt](http://hannibalkink.dreamwidth.org/1724.html?thread=922044#cmt922044) was that Mason would have Will brought in with intentions of having him raped and broadcast for Hannibal to see.   
>  I didn't go graphic with it, and the actual act doesn't go through, however this probably isn't the best fic to read if you've issues and triggers regarding this. 
> 
> I tried to stick with book canon, but I know that most of my Will came from the show just in that it's fresher on my mind. 
> 
> This was written in one sitting and is unedited beyond a quick read through before posting there and a quick addition before posting here.
> 
> ♥

Waking up is always a task. Even after years of practice, sometimes he still gets confused between reality and dreaming. At least they aren't all nightmares anymore, and at least the sleepwalking's gone (for now, for now, for now- he reminds himself not to take things for granted, because if he presses his fingers against his eyelids, he can still remember stag horns brushing him and startling awake to gravel under his feet). 

This time, waking up is considerably more of a task than usual. He feels like he's trudging his way through mist, fighting his way to clarity. His eyes won't focus, and he's not even really sure if he's blinking them or just thinking really hard about blinking. There are noises all around- noises he's sure don't belong in his bedroom, which leaves him with a whole new area to throw his dulled senses into, to figure out where he is... (not the roof, he determines... he's not about to fly or standing at the edge of a cliff or anything, so surely not the roof...)

"He's waking up," a rough voice says to his left, the first thing he's able to make out and identify. He'd almost congratulate himself, but he's still not sure if it's real or not--- if it's real, he's just going to be even more confused, probably--- so he withholds and doesn't. 

There are a few sentences tossed around in some language he doesn't care enough about to even identify, and his eyes finally start to focus. He's in... a room. It's rough, dirt floor and planked walls. Crude cabin? Barn? Something. Barn, probably, he decides, finally getting his nose to cooperate. Three of five, doing good, Graham... doing good. He laughs, almost hysterical, very briefly, to himself. 

He determines that he's tied, that people are definitely here (or, well, as definite as he can bring himself to believe; it may have been some time, but that doesn't mean the hallucinations will never come back)- but they're behind him, talking in a bastardized mix of English and... something. Fuck. He always hated foreign languages in school. 

"Mason says cue up the audio," a voice yells, "and get ready- take your places. He's tired of wasting time."

"Mason says, Mason says," another voice replies, mockingly, although it's... Will can't decide if he's hearing it all wrong or if there's something wrong with the voice, slurring words and dropping letters... "Mason says hold your horses, boys. I'd like a word with our little... star." 

The voices all seem to stutter to a halt, and Will can hear something moving toward him. 

And fuck, if something isn't just the right word. He's never seen pictures of Mason Verger--- the knowledge that he exists in general is enough to leave him dry heaving and shuddering, disgusted at himself and at Hannibal and at Verger himself--- he's no stranger to the concept of who he is and what he is and why he is... or how he got himself to that state. But, he has no doubt that the... thing... in front of him is Mason Verger. 

He averts his eyes, scanning around the area, trying to figure out what the fuck is going on and why the fuck he's here. How'd he get here... something, any sort of answer to anything at this point, that'd be great.

"Will Graham," Verger says, voice lilting and pausing in the midst of his name, managing to sound like he's amused just by those two words alone. "We're so pleased you've finally woken up and decided to join us, Will. Here we thought maybe Carlo fucked up and killed you... but alive... alive will be so much better... See, we've been trying to... well, we've been trying to think of a nice present to get Doctor Lecter..." 

Will shudders at the name, or maybe just the way Mason says it, like it's the sweetest thing he's ever said... or maybe just at the way the name makes something warm furl around inside of him, like always, like maybe it is the sweetest thing anyone will ever say... or maybe just at himself, for not being strong enough to tamp down on that feeling... ever. 

"And, well, see, we got the idea that you, Mr. Graham--- Inspector Graham? Agent Graham? You go by so many things. It's probably just Mister now, isn't it? Gave all that up, from what I've heard? Well, regardless- we decided the best thing we could get him was a little... ah... reminder of home. I do hate to impose, Will, but I assure you, Vinnie's going to take great care of you, help you put on quite the show for Doctor Lecter..." 

A man, he assumes it's Vinnie, steps out behind Mason, grinning--- no, leering. Will puts two and two together, flinches against his will, eyes squeezing tight.

(He's struggling to breathe with the excitement of it all, the anticipation at what's to come, all the unknown variables, the one known outcome--- he will break Will Graham for not stopping Lecter sooner, and he will break Lecter... money can buy a great many things, but it can't buy back the things taken from him. And it won't buy back the things he will take from them. This... this is his design.)

Verger laughs, inclines his head toward Vinnie, "Remember to take it slow, Vin. Make it worth everyone's time... and you, the rest of you- get the audio rolling and make sure all of the cameras are going... I want this to be a work of goddamned art." 

\---

Mason's been rolled away. (He's seated somewhere, watching in real time, watching on the monitors. He flicks his tongue over his lips, chuckling to himself. This, this will be the most beautiful thing he has ever created) Vinnie has cut his shirt off of him, not risking undoing the bindings holding him up. (He gets creative with the knife he uses, lets it scrape over tanned skin, watches the way it holds onto his design) His shoulders are burning from the position he's restrained in, and he's trying not to gag, and he can barely think with the way everyone's jumbling inside of him. (Out of the corner of his eye, he watches as antlers sprout from the camera men, fur grows on the cameras, clouds of warm breath snort out of the microphones) 

He feels himself panicking, feels time flickering, seconds and minutes blurring. He's not wearing pants anymore, but he doesn't remember them coming off. Vinnie's holding the knife to his neck, murmuring to him and laughing in that fucking language that Will wants to bite out of his throat--- where did, no, he can't let himself get these monsters mixed up with himself. 

His name is Will Graham.   
It's... a time. It's a time, that's for sure. Twilight, from the light between the cracks, so eight, maybe. Yeah.   
His name is Will Graham. It's eight pm. He's in a barn.   
He is not Vinnie. He is not Mason. He is not a murderer or a rapist or a sadist running a camera. 

Vinnie's touching the blade to his hip, teasing and grinning at a camera beside them, really playing to his audience as he runs the knife blade up a bit, presses the tip against his scar (and fuck, fuck, fuck, this is not- this is not how he wants his life to be going. This was never the plan. This was never... fuck.)

As Vinnie gives just enough of a shove to finally draw blood, everything seems to freeze. He doesn't find himself thrust forward in time, wondering where the past few moments have gone- but rather, held completely still in time, wondering why he can see things happening in this slow motion that makes him want to vomit. 

Things have slowed down, and he can watch as the blood blooms out of the mouth of the camera man behind Vinnie. He can see the knife sticking through the throat, can hear the gurgles, can watch as Vinnie slowly- too slowly, so slowly- turns his head to check the noise. He watches as three more drop, slowly and quietly. 

...He has time to relish the look of fear spread over Vinnie's face as he realizes what's going on... (but he is not slowed down like they are... his own panicfearreliefhopeblindinghope comes at him so fast that if he were not bound up, his knees would buckle and he would fall)

Time reasserts itself as he looks up to meet the eyes of the only man whose gaze he has ever wanted to meet head on. The eyes are clear, much clearer than his own feel, and sparkling so deeply that they're almost maroon today. 

"Just what have you gotten yourself into, Will?" Hannibal asks, even as he carefully cuts the bindings holding him, standing sturdy as Will lets himself stumble into him, using him as a pillar of strength while he gathers his own--- and isn't that just par for the course?

"Kind of thought you might have the answer to that," he responds, voice rasping a bit, eyes finally averting. 

Hannibal turns, grinning up to a ledge where a man stands, frozen in confusion and fear, hands clutching at Mason's wheelchair, while Mason spits out orders that the man can't seem to grasp and follow.

Hannibal slides a hand around to rest at the small of Will's back (...when did he get so naked? Well, no, obviously, but why--- it didn't seem quite so naked then, with cameras trained on his shame and no control against too rough touches with a too sharp blade, as it does now, with a soft hand that's all too familiar and somehow so foreign)... 

"Well, then," Hannibal responds, flicking his gaze back to Will, pursing his lips into a hint of a smirk, "Let us join Mr. Verger---" The man behind Mason turns and flees. Hannibal does not stop him. "---and maybe we can all discuss this terrible tableau over dinner?"


End file.
